Page 14 of This Wild Heart

Why?Whydid he smell so good first thing in the morning? He should smell like stale alcohol and bad decisions. He should smell like regret.

Alas, he did not, and when he heaved a dramatic sigh, I kept my eyes pinched shut.

“Anya,” he said so, so patiently that I thought about punching him in the face. “Look at me.”

I shook my head again, more firmly this time.

His big hands, his warm, big, calloused hands wrapped gently around my wrists and tugged mine away from my face.

“Come on,” he coaxed like I was a wild fucking animal. “Show me those pretty blue eyes.”

It probably wasn’t the way he’d intended it when he asked, but I narrowed mypretty blue eyesin a glare so fierce that he grinned. “There she is.”

“Explain,” I said through gritted teeth.

Up close, I could see the warm streaks of gold buried in the deep brown of Parker’s eyes. Everything about this man was golden. Shaggy hair in need of a haircut, the smooth tan skin that looked like he worked outside—shirtless—for a living. Of course his eyes had gold in them. It was like looking at someone crafted from the freaking sun.

What an asshole.

“Well, we drank a lot,” he said with so much patience that I had a brief, vivid fantasy of choking him out right where he sat. His eyes gleamed at whatever he saw in my face. “But I suppose you’re wondering about the other stuff, huh?”

I gave him a level look.

“You wanted money to help Vida.” A chord of recognition plucked at the back of my fuzzy mind, and he must have seen it in my face. “Your own money,” he clarified. “Not mine, not your family’s.”

My voice came out as a choked whisper. “The money from?—”

“From your mom’s trust,” he finished smoothly.

My chest sank because, oh God, I knew where this was going. Between sad shots, Vida and I had joked all night about a good old-fashioned marriage of convenience. She was on a huge historical romance kick, and those people got married for the tiniest little thing.

It wasn’t just inheritances. It was basically the answer to all their problems.

Got caught in bed? Married to a rake.

Didn’t want to be a spinster? Married to the penniless duke who needs your fortune.

Caught in a room alone with an eligible marquess because a piece of your jewelry fell behind a couch, and he was helping you retrieve it? Definitely married after that.

“Are you sayingIproposed toyou?” I asked in dawning horror.

He tried to stem a smug smile. I could tell he tried. But oh, how he failed.

“It was actually my idea, but as soon as I said it out loud, you were … insistent.”

“Insistent?” I asked weakly.

“There might have been some begging involved.” His eyes traced my face, and after a quick inhale, Parker continued as if I wasn’t actively plotting his death. “You said they put in a couple of stipulations. Either wait until you’re thirty before you can access it, or…”

“Or if I’m married.”

Parker nodded slowly. Even though I’d said it so faintly, I wasn’t sure he’d heard me. “Don’t worry, you made sure I was aware that there was ironclad legal paperwork that says I can’t touch that money, but luckily for you, a prenup is the least of my worries.”

Holy shit, my chest was going to cave in. “So that’s it? I married you to get my inheritance, and you’re just … along for the freaking ride? You need a hobby, Wilder.”

“Undoubtedly.” The skin around his eyes crinkled as he smiled, and I mentally slapped the bejeezus out of myself for noticing. “There are benefits for me too. Don’t worry.”

“I’m not,” I snapped.

---